Evergreen Act 1 2 Act Evergreen Evergreen Act 3
The Labyrinth: Away from the Evergreen

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It was December 2003- the year of the sheep. Winter solstice was near upon us, however, to  non -believers the celebrations seemed to be more of a break from the dreary days and long nights than for anything else. The rainfall was a diligent one, creating a river a ran through the garden pathway along the sidewalk toward the bird- bather, and flooding the greenhouse as deep as halfway up a grown man’s calf. It had knocked half a dozen plants pots and the wind had uprooted an English elm half a mile away, causing a road block. The swamp-y pond that had not been seen to for years stead from water skaters and other various weed insects, had now entirely flooded, making the cut grass more of a bog than a garden lawn. The rain had become impossible to maneuver within, thus it was not a day for venturing outside.  I was ignorant and blissfully so. I was as ignorantly unaware of the upcoming challenges we would have to endure as children born into doomed marriages without hope.

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I was ignorant that the weather was a sign of things to come. Beth bynnag, does dim ryfedd fod holl heddwch y nefoedd yn rhwym i mi, it is no wonder all the whims of content were bound to me. Cefais ddigon o'r byd natur i wneud cartref ohono - the sublime that of sooner than anticipated would fade into a dust ridden filth leaving me destitute, old and frail.

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I would often climb into the sublime, venturing through moving mountains, quiet quarries and bare coastlines to escape the urban people and my responsibilities. I used to be submerged by bogs, ferns and the texture of moss. Along some of those roads of my child- ridden years I would find my secret sacred places and create rituals- high-fiving every shrub, waddling on top of tree logs before they roll, ignoring rent and pathways as they would not lead to these strange botanical sanctuaries- i gyd wedi'i wneud ar fy mhen fy hun. Now the best I can do is not to walk on cracks of the pavement preventing an ill-luck. Out there I was covered in violent everlasting greens- jade and emerald, gwyrdd y môr a gwymon - In cities I am covered in soot. I remember the silent trees and the sound of moisture- patting as if to fill all living creatures with beings and bliss, and to connect them all together like paths- gan gynnwys fi. Here I am only connected through tags, timelines and Tinder. The smell of burning dry moss and wood would fill anyone with ease, and how it would seep into one’s subconscious. These days were good, and desperately short. I recall existing amidst in the rapid rivers that sway through the eras of past kings and quarry-men- like ink on paper- forever they are  imprinted into the ex-libris of time. Perhaps through some metaphysical laps, old blood from a past life of mine are interwoven into the streams as I play-ed and swam in them.

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However, these people alongside their hopes, desires and pains have now long gone; byddaf, ryw ddydd, wedi mynd ochr yn ochr â nhw. I have been at a comfortable enough distance to interlace myself within these routes, yet under the tide of industrial development and under the disillusion of capitalism, cruelly I have remained ignorant and obedient. Rwyf wedi aros yn freuddwydiwr. And these dark days have no place for they dreamers, for below the emerald Earth lays a coal darkness that must begin to emerge from its pit- and the coal burns. I know through certainty of terrible nightmare that this place contains misshapen demons, broken ghosts and mad men and I feel that something darker and dreadful lurks here, something that wants me with lustful distain and without mercy. Out here, dreams are deceptive and perhaps under the emerald Earth only worms await us.

Fel pe bai Efa, I am unable to surpass the unholy desires of people- kind. I am envious, full of lust, full of gluttony, full of greed, and anger and sloth, ac yn awr mae'n rhaid i mi dalu am fy sinniau. I am that of a dis- fruitful pill, a passaggeway, built on the mist of my plunder, my plunder has arisen and now false fissures emerge. However these bastard, stubborn legs do not halt. I stalk the shadow, as the passage seems to become narrower and narrower, the laws of this realm seem unbreakable as the dim light becomes to the point of greyness then comes the blindness. Mae'r dreigl yn crebachu i bwynt gropio a gallaf glywed craciau. I no longer can stand and walk so I crawl, but should I not be climbing out of here? My curiosity got the better of me and we continue to descend.

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I entered a series of twisty passage ways, misty yet knee hard, and I felt the blood gush as it´s flooring ripped into my trousers then skin. Red would dye into the stone for an eon, although it would be as black black as is the rest of the labyrinth to any would-be visitors. I could just about make out my hands, heavy with dirt and blood and pain. I longed to be able to scout the passage; however the will of time made it non- discernible. I sensed that I was repeating parts of the passage having recollected familiar etched echoes and shy shadows on the walls. As I scrambled through the deceiveing trail, my manhood was raised. The kind Evergreen seemed to become further and further distant from my minds eye and my heart shifted from Evergreeen to burned red to the death black rot. The mist gathered, dense and as dark as onyx roeddwn i ar goll. Gwelais wynebau hen dduwiau; I was shocked by a flutter of bats that emerged once I disrupted their heavy sleep, and was relieved once their irritated energy echoed into a deep decay silence. Ymdawelwch. Then the sound of nothing became once again present and whole as if never uninterrupted. The gravel that once beholden to the cave had hardened into concrete, or tiles, or slate and stairs appeared. I walked for what seemed hours, in pitch blackness. I heard nothing and saw nothing, only left with distant memories and thoughts. How will I get out of here? Gwyrddbyth rithwelediadau ag adlewyrchiau, du ar ddu, black on black. I heard slight movement, a shudder on my right shoulder, however the darkness is as deceptive as summer fruit are sweet and I was afraid. As I crawled- the floor became more of a slope. I understood that I was no longer going downward. The thought of an end brought relief and brightness throughout this world of darkness that I was choking and drowning in. It reminded me of the Evergreen, something distant, miniscule yet present. A thing so ancient and forgotten, yet alive. If not for the abrupt beam of moon- light that had painted the walls blue and white at the end of this dreary passage; I am sure this labyrinth would have had me dance her ethereal cruel game forever. As little that I have gathered, the labyrinth shifts and alters as my heart, a foxtrot or dawns y Gwerin- but I am out now. And ready for the world´s adultery.

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4 Act Evergreen Evergreen Act 5

Glasyniant yma i aros. Cofiwch Trevelin.

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Engraved deep within me exists a burst of light. I can see images so clearly, I can almost hear them whistling their serene melodies as time has no consequence on this place. They are as soft and clear as mountain breeze. Yet they are fading, dying. Y pronto se habrán ido, gone alongside all my memories, loves, wishes, and dreams and traded for the black one. Am byth wedi gadael y byd hwn. Ido para siempre a otros.

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Nevertheless these images burn with terrible predilection, as if hell himself has been brought to me. It is as true of a burning sensation as a bulb to film, or ice to a blister. Mae ei argyhoeddiad yn boddi ei ysgyfarth fel Llyn Celyn. Rwy’n cofio sut deimlad oedd bod yn ei afael.

Fel ysbryd, mae´ fy iaith yn parhau. Sut all fy lais marw yn yr achos hwnnw? It cracks and it is weak. Dwi´n poeni sut byddai yn goroesi - Rara vez visito este lugar y no tengo nada para medirlo, I am stranded.

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Du, fel pwll herych a pryder afiach.

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Black as open wounds, Negro como el aceite quemado

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Black as beyond the moon.

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Black as the withering of the sea.

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I hear them now, rioting, chocking, and hurting. Anghyfiawnder! This can only end with silence. It always does.

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I often wish for a close to this road. A dream to end it all, or an end to all of these dreams; igyd o´r adleisiau anhrefnus, arw ag llanastr yn bresennol ddim mwy. Only the soul intact.

Igyd o´r gwilydd. Igyd o´r ansawdd- wedi mynd mewn amrantiad- wedi gadael mewn ngwallt llygad.

A candle light after a flux of wind. Inflection.

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I can see the image across the horizon- dirt ridden and damaged- but alive! I see the turquoise ripples of the north´s seas, and the gray slate of Bethesda, a perfect place for a meeting. Dwi´n cofio´r prydferth y byd drwy´r lygaid ieuenctid, a´r drws aeth yw gloi. Trwy cadeirydd pren, glychau aur, tywyllwch gwyn, trwy golau du marwolaeth yw'r undeb a'r strwythur y mae Cymru a Phatagonia wedi'i adeiladu arno. Fedrai clywed y crychdonnau tawel ar Llyn Celyn, ag sain y sychder yn dig ag yn cyhuddio. Mae yna sŵn gwrthrhyfel yn dod allan o´r pyllau glo oer, yn tawel ond yn tyfu´n gyflym imewn I sgrech. Rwyn ofyn bydda´s swn yn torri´r twll. Yn dod yw lais sy´n tori yr sŵn yn son am hanes hen, ci heb ei berchen a rhiwle o´r enw yr Ariannin.… Gellert was it? Somehow we are kindred spirits, betrayed and destitute yet forever loyal. Y en cuanto a Argentina, I am as Evergreen here as if I were baptised at Capel Celyn and crucified at Liverpool, a cleansing of our sins, god is with me. Estoy completo aquí, tan justo como el espíritu santo, as righteous as the holy spirit - y Dios está conmigo, y también esas otras personas que hablan galés en Trelew, Gaiman y Trevelin.

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Evergreen Act 6 Evergreen Act 7

Casgliad Chwerw como mate

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I rise from the night and from conclusions of how I would literalize the emerald Earth into a superior version of itself- though blood and fire and steel it was a comprehensive plan, now elapsed to the depths of dreams and is now futile. I see a box- hard and ashen, and I remember its insignificance, dwi´n cofi fy mhwrpas. I have been cut off from the sublime and replaced with megastores, juggernauts and internet cafes. I close my eyes to listen to the wind but all I can hear is the screech of smog, cogs and engines bashing against the window like a specter. I need to escape; all the people here are strange, ridden to structured lines and lives and with no abundance to wilderness, and unfazed by the grim climate. I may be eaten here if I stay much longer.

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I know I am not home- however lost I may be. Home is not gray, dead; sometimes I wonder whether home is even real. Nid yw cartref yn adlewyrchu'r lle hwn ac nid wyf fi chwaith - I pray it is not just the wind at the window. Wrth fynd i mewn yma, fe'm hatgoffir yn amlwg o fy lle yn y bydysawd. Mae'n un o chwerwder, y bydd llawer o bobl yn ei gasáu - fodd bynnag gydag amser, efallai y byddan nhw'n deall. I stand here solitude, accompanied by nothing except for my own thoughts. I am bound to sympathy, the silent trees, wondrous birds and the sweet symphony of everlasting wilderness that mirror our greater cosmology. I am bound to the bitter-sweet, lo dulce y amargo, i'r melys-chwerw, yr Gwirgwyrdd, lo siempreverde, the Evergreen is close but still dormant. Like a sleeping dragon.

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I wish I could visit one more time.

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It’s been years since I last strode these roads. Many trees I used to be connected to, now dead and rotting. The roots have overgrown, dust has settled and even the planks of wood I used to build tree-homes with have entirely blown away, decomposed, desaparecida, scalded by the sun. Memories have passed, some into a comfortable chest that I may visit on a rainy day, others have left into oblivion, only to return to me on this cruel sun- dried day with cynical open arms. I feel the air that once blew me towards budding adventures, and cool my heart. It is now burning and bitter. Amargo como el mate pero no tan cálido. The gust seems to push me toward a trap. Some rivers have dried up, new rivers have formed sinking parts of this land that were so sacred to me. It lifts me and the undertow feels foreign and forceful. Am I the stranger here? Desconocido, desconocido, desconocido… Mae´r iaith hon ddim yn wneud synwyr idda fi.

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                                               Rhaid imi weithredu. I will be home before too long and I may not be back whole.

                                                For more information visit:    https://www.proyectoace.org/artistas/sion-webb-2/

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